


Och, Scotland

by habitbynight



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Brainy! Arthur, Doctor! Arthur, F/F, M/M, Painter! Merlin, Possible Divorce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitbynight/pseuds/habitbynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon, esteemed doctor, returns home from a heart surgery only to find his husband wants a divorce. Left to his own devices, he goes to his sister for comfort; and there he meets a particular, bold, handsome Scottish painter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**1**

Who knew the United States could be that exhausting?

 

The newspaper had said that morning, in big bold letters: ‘Pendragon Does It Again!” It continued to give the details of his trip from England to Washington D.C, how long it took him to get to the Washington Hospital Center  (18 minutes) and how long the heart surgery had taken (5 hours, because there were many arteries to bypass) and how he’d left (‘jauntily, greeting everyone in his way). It finished announcing he would be back on his plane by seven after a long day with jet lag included, but Dr. Pendragon of the Pendragon Medical Industry had done it…again.

 

Now, what he wanted, was to get through customs easily and quickly, catch a taxi home to see his husband Lance, take a shower, and collapse in their comfy white bed at home.  It was at least six hours time difference and it was starting to hurt for being awake for so long. Flying for six hours, heart surgery for five, flying back for six and then about two to get home? He’d been awake for about 19 hours. 

 

Arthur Pendragon was longing for his husband as the Delta jet roared through the skies. Lance Pendragon was quite the man. Physically, he was lithe, yet muscular. His brown hair flowed to his shoulder—he always had slight stubble, Arthur recalled fondly. He was placid and soothing, like a drink of water on a hot summer day. His very presence was nurturing, and funny, and he hadn’t cheated on Arthur in two years.

 

And he loved him deeply, with all of his heart He recalled their wedding day, plain as a bell: Uther in the front, checking his watch so he wasn’t late for chemotherapy for his latest patient. His sister Morgana, lovely in green, holding the hand of her wife of three years, Guinevere (who was the kindest woman Arthur knew, and he never knew why she married quick witted, sharp tongued Morgana).  It had been small, but all over the papers in a matter of hours: ‘Pendragon marries High School Sweetheart.’

 

Uther had expressed his disapproval of having two gay children, very clearly.  “It is contemptible to me, that I will have no grandchildren. I would rather they set up with men and women respectably. But the matter is done, I say no more.” He had said, very regally, in front of the press later that day.

And so it had been since. Hasty dinners and lots of spooning, nice vacations to the Bahamas once a year for Christmas with Morgana and Gwen and his husband; the rest was the press and dipping his hands into brains, hearts, testing politicians and princes heart rates and looking into the eyes of their children. So much work, he knew, and so little time for Lance; yet he had stuck with him this far. 

 

The plane landed and he rushed out of the first class cabin, hurrying to customs. He was about the twentieth person in line.

 

“Glasses off, please.” the security guard muttered tiredly, and Arthur stood up straighter, removing his square shaped glasses and holding them in his briefcase hand. Blue eyes, blonde hair, stern mouth and of course glasses. Lance had never liked his glasses.

 

“Welcome home, Mr. Pendragon.” the man uttered, stamping his passport and sending him through. His briefcase his only luggage, he flagged one of the taxis roaming the streets, and ordered them to where his apartment was. 

 

It was a neat brown apartment, stacked with others of the wealthy. He sighed wearily as he climbed the dark stairwell;Lance hadn’t wanted to move out, even when he got a promotion and a raise. So, they stayed in this dark gloomy place. Lance liked it and that made Arthur pleased.

 

Quietly, seeing as it was about 4 AM, he knocked on the door, knowing deep down he’d forgotten the key on purpose.

 

When Lance opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the circles under his eyes. Lance loved sleep almost as much as playing pranks. So that…was extremely unusual. He hadn’t seen his husbands face in about three days…but the dark circles meant he wasn’t sleeping. Arthur tried to keep the frown from his face, let himself relax.

 

“Hullo, love.” He said, stepping forward, hand on the door and pushing. It was stuck. Lance’s face looked out at him worriedly, and it was then he saw the chain was pulled across.

 

“Oh, I see, very funny. Open the door, I just want a shower and sleep. No bucket of water this time please.” Arthur said, trying to be cheerful.

 

“Arthur….” 

 

His husbands voice was full of worry and tiredness. Arthur instantly felt the urge to protect him and hold him tight.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked anxiously. 

 

“We need to talk, so I need you to just…be quiet and listen.” Lancelot said quietly, running a hand through his brown hair so that it fell around his face.

 

“Well…it’s four o’clock in the morning, won’t you at least let me in?” Arthur asked, letting the smile slip and his frown show.

 

“No, Arthur.You’ll try and persuade me to change my mind…” Lancelot looked up at him, his face stern.

 

“Well then, I’m listening.” 

 

“Well….we’ve known each other since junior year. And through college. Thats five years. And then we married when college was over, so seven. And we’ve been married for two. And I…your always busy, Arthur. Your always distant. All I get is a warm body to sleep with, someone to shag, and someone to be with in public and take me on great vacations…I don’t get _you,_ Arthur. And for God’s sake, I want something new. I want someone poor, I want someone who doesn’t always have to be in surgery and comes home smelling like blood so the apartment smells like fetal guts. I want something that will give me love back, not a bloody robot!” 

 

By the end of the speech, Lancelot was almost shouting, and Arthur knew he himself  was pale as a bone.

 

“Lance…you can’t mean it…I’ve been trying…we can make it work….”

 

“We need some time apart some each other, say two weeks. And if I still feel the same way? I’ll be filing for divorce, Arthur. I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore.” Lancelot began to slide the exotic white door shut.

 

“Wait!” He grabbed the edge of the door, frantic. “Don’t you love me anymore? I….where am I supposed to go?”

 

“Go to your sisters. She has all of your stuff there already…most of it. I wanted to keep…the, ah, photo album for a while longer. And my…ring.” The way Lancelot’s voice cracked on ring made Arthur want to slam the door open and hold him and make him feel better.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

“How long has this been going on, in your head?”  Arthur whispered.

 

“Since a month ago.” Lancelot replied firmly, his face hot with shame and guilt, as he uncurled Arthur’s fingers from the door, and shut it gently.

 

And Arthur was left alone, once more, biting his lip not to cry. He twisted the plain gold  band around his finger, and he felt desperately sad. 

 

He went downstairs to call another taxi.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the story really starts.

It took longer to get to Morgana’s flat, probably because she lived all the way across town from him. Lance probably wanted to be as far away from him as possible, he thought, trying to be bitter, but it didn’t work. He just felt worse. He could literally feel himself sinking into desolation.

 

“Please, hurry and I’ll give you a few extra pounds. Say, ten.” He told the driver, and tried to stay awake to admire the beautiful lights of London Bridge and Tower as they passed by.

 

He tried to keep the tears from his eyes, but they were falling freely as he recalled high school, all the weird tea they’d drank together…their first kiss on the night of graduation…being in the college play of ‘Much Ado’, he pretending to be Hero and Lancelot Don Pedro, pulling him aside saying things like ‘Speak low if you speak love’ before he’d tackle him to the ground…

 

Morgana and Gwen had a lovely flat, on the third floor of a exclusive apartment complex. The guard knew him, and waved, not stopping him as he entered.   

 

He trudged up the grand staircase, and down the hall to Apartment 330, where he knocked loudly, too tired to control his fist. 

 

Morgana appeared at the door, long hair flowing over her Oriental pajamas and the first thing she did was curse. 

 

“You weren’t supposed to be here till tomorrow—“she began, and then seeing his tired face tried again. “We have a guest—“ and seeing his tear stained cheeks she stopped and instead wrapped him in a hug.

 

Guinevere appeared behind her, dressed in a white nightgown, her hair in two braids, and she smiled kindly and sincerely as she lead him into the luxurious apartment.

 

“Oh Arthur, I’m so very sorry.” was the first thing she said, and the second was “Here, come and have some tea.” But at the pained reaction on his face, she instantly took it back and changed it to cocoa. 

 

While she made it, Morgana showed him his pile of stuff in the corner of the green living room. There were all his suits and jeans and t-shirts, his files, his toothbrush…it was all he took not to break down crying again. Gently, he leaned his briefcase near it, and removed his suit jacket. 

 

“I’ll call in sick for you.” Morgana said as she guided him to the couch, cocoa in hand. He didn’t question why, just sank onto it, still wearing his 40’s suspenders and slacks.  He removed his brown leather shoes, noticing absently there was a spot on them.

 

The last thing he heard before he slept was ‘What’ll we do if Merlin sees him?”

 

“I dunno, shove em together and see if they kiss.” 

 

“Morgana!”

 

When his eyes opened, he was struck with a blurry light. His glasses were askew, and he reached under them, rubbing at his eyes until the light was clearer. Sitting up, he checked his watch: 11 AM. His hair, he knew, was sticking out everywhere and gently, he adjusted his glasses, before standing up…

 

And then it came back to him. The surgery, the trip home, Lancelot…he sank back down feeling numb. He didn’t want to start the day off by crying. So he sucked his tears back as best he could, and prepared to face the day. 

 

The kitchen had always reminded him of some warm lovely spanish speaking country far away. He wandered in, not surprised to see a pot of coffee on the stove, and poured himself a cup in that weird bunny one. 

 

The coffee, specially imported from Costa Rica, filled his mouth and he knocked it back in two seconds flat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Wiping his mouth, he put the cup down and turned from the stove to the fridge, where he assumed there would be orange juice.

 

But someone was standing in front of the fridge and at first glance he thought it was Morgana, what with the pale skin and dark eyes.

 

But no. A boy, man really, was leaning in front of the fridge. His pale skin showed plainly, for he wasn’t wearing a shirt; just a pair of grey jeans which clung to his jutting hipbones. His dark hair was short, and cropped, and his grey eyes were friendly looking, if serious at the moment. He was watching Arthur silently, arms crossed, not moving.

 

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize anyone was here…” Arthur fumbled for words, running a hand through his hair self consciously. 

 

“It’s all right.” The man said quietly, still watching him, his eyes tracing his face curiously.

 

“Um, Arthur Pendragon.” he said, sticking out a hand. It was met with one that was stained with…pink? His hand came away with a slight stain of pink paint. 

 

“Merlin Emerys. Sorry, I was using your sisters oil paint-excellent quality- and when I paint it ends up all over me.” He motioned to himself, and Arthur noticed the streaks in his hair, some on his….chest.

 

“Morgana never mentioned you—are you one of Gwen’s friends?” He asked, casually, walking towards him. Merlin moved when he reached for the fridge handle, and hopped onto the counter, which looked like an effort, him being so slim.

 

“I’m her best friend, actually. I live in Edinburgh though, so I’m not usually here—just came down for a visit.” He explained, watching Arthur pour orange juice into two small round glasses, halfway full exactly.

 

“I’ve never been to Scotland; is it stunning?” Arthur replied absently, handing a glass to Merlin, who took it without thanks or a smile, and knocked it back. Arthur stood nursing his own, leaning against the fridge sideways so he could look at the Scotsman.

 

“It’s fantastic, there, actually. Quite the view every morning. Of course, when you live in Edinburgh and have a shit job and you want to be a painter, you see everything differently.” Merlin chuckled softly, and Arthur found himself liking the shape his mouth made when he laughed.

 

“I’m here because my husband kicked me out.” he admitted, taking a sip of his juice. “Oh, no…” he paused, glancing up at Merlin. “Your not a secret press guy, are you?”

 

“God, no! At home I work in a bloody cubicle at PDI, your fathers company, I believe. That’s how I met Gwen.” 

 

“Wow, and to think we’ve never been introduced. But who are you to call my fathers company a shit job?” Arthur said, glad for the change of subject.

 

“There were obstacles in our path. And I didn’t mean it that way, I just hate it a lot.” Merlin said, shrugging as he hopped off the counter, grabbing the juice container and shoving it in the fridge, Arthur stumbling to move out of his way. For his size and delicate looks, he moved fast. 

 

“I guess so. I’d hate to work there too.” Arthur replied, finishing off his juice. 

 

“You guess so?” Merlin teased him, lightly, and Arthur knew why he was Gwen’s best friend all of a sudden.

 

They both froze when the front door opened, and then, mutually, moved away from each other, Merlin again opening the fridge and Arthur taking the cups to the dishwasher.

 

Morgana entered the room wearing stunning red heels and a black dress, carrying a bag of groceries. She stopped, putting a hand on her hip, and looking at the sickeningly domestic scene in the kitchen.

 

“Well, there go the formal introductions. I hope you didn’t think he was a burglar, Arthur.”

 

“Be reasonable Morgana, no burglar could get in here.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and smiled gently when she kissed his cheek.

 

“That’s more like the brother I know. We must get you to practice your wittiness more, you’ve become so brainy and quiet, I can understand where my bold Arthur went!”

 

“More like he’s still here!” Arthur growled playfully, cupping his hand and catching the water from the faucet, and when she turned, dumping it on her perfectly done hair.

 

Her face went O in shock  but within moments Merlin was scrambling out of the way of the siblings, Arthur being chased around the room with a shrieking Morgana carrying her heels as weapons, more frightening then ninjas with their shurken.

 

And Arthur Pendragon, esteemed doctor, felt more at home then he had in a long while. Despite the aching in his chest for Lancelot, he felt at home.


	3. 3

**3**

 

Gwen always made the best meals. When Morgana cooked, it turned out very poorly. Lots of too crispy toast and beans still cold from the can. But when Gwen cooked, it was like it was straight from a foreign country. Because Merlin was there, though, and not used to so much spice,  she just made italian pasta: basil, mozzarella, tomato,  and garlic. 

 

It was perfect, especially with the candles lit and them all circled around the hard wood black table. He had the perfect view of Morgana’s eyes highlighted in the light as she slurped her pasta noisily. The perfect view of Gwen’s ringlets curling past her face as she spooned more pasta into Merlin’s bowl.

 

And Merlin himself, his ears sticking out at enormous reach, eating delicately. No slurping, no loud Scottish belching, no rude remarks. Just pale fingers lifting the red napkin to dab at his lips, and the way he fingered the wine glass…it was all so interesting.

 

Very different from being with Lancelot. True, Arthur had always been rushing, but to his credit Lance had put his elbows on the table, let himself chew with his mouth open. Arthur had a thing for good table manners and good food; Lancelot neither had nor made either. The food, unless they went out, was ramen, and to this day it reminded him of college days. 

 

Lance…his fork stilled, though the others didn’t notice; something about some movie. He’d been here for a week, going to work at four am and coming back at six pm, and there were never any messages, texts, letters; nothing. Until today. 

 

The divorce papers had come in the mail, in a heavy envelope browned with age. When he opened it, his hands had shook, and they had strewn themselves over the floor. He had picked them up gingerly, and read them slowly, carefully, for hours into the night, ignoring Morgana and Gwen’s cautious ‘Hello?”s and knocks on the door. He’d shouted, then, fuming, telling them to fuck off, banging his hand into the wall multiple times in anger. 

 

The next morning, the papers were signed, and he had sent them off. Gwen and Morgana had given him a wide berth, but Merlin had threw yellow paint into his hair and told him to ‘lighten up, buttercup’. He smiled, recalling that fondly, and picking up his fork again. They’d become okay friends the past week, and Arthur liked that.

 

Suddenly, he jumped, for his phone was vibrating in his pocket. The other three at the table turned and looked at him. He shrugged, adjusting his glasses.

 

“I…gotta take this. Might be…” he trailed off, pushing his chair back and heading into the living room that he’d been sleeping on.

 

He allowed himself a hopeful thought before he slide his finger across the screen and lifted it to his ear. Biting his tongue, he took his time saying, in a cautious voice:

 

“Hello?”

 

A crackling sound on the other line. A deep breath was heard. And then—

 

“Arthur. How are you?” The stern voice of Uther Pendragon came across the line.

 

“Father.” The words in his throat caught and stuck and he coughed them out, feeling again down. 

 

“I heard about the US surgery; very successful. I’m proud of you.” The words should have made him feel happy, but he felt ever more hollow.

 

“Thank you.” He said politely. 

 

“I….” he heard the creak of his fathers chair as he leaned back. “I heard about Lancelot, that you signed the first set of divorce papers without talking.”

 

“Yes…he wanted something new, and I just….thought it was for the best.”

 

“Well…its for the best. I knew he was never really your type anyway.” Uther replied, and Arthur could hear the faint smile in his voice.

 

“Father—“

 

“I have a few words of advice for you. Since you are Arthur Pendragon, and the initial divorce petition is filed and served, all you have to go do is see a judge on Tuesday and it will be over. Take his ring, leave him the apartment, give him no money. And no hard feelings would be good.”

 

“All right.” Arthur sighed.

 

“But! Arthur, this is a chance to turn your life around. Morgana knows many young woman, who would love to be with a doctor, a doctor such as yourself.”

 

“Father, what?” Arthur groaned, trying to keep it out of his voice. 

 

“Arthur, just listen to me. It’s a good idea. Some nice woman, perhaps a Scottish woman, one who you never knew before Lancelot…”

 

Arthur turned, letting his voice fall on deaf ears. Through the crack in the door, he could see Merlin as he threw his head back and laughed. Start with becoming better friends, maybe?

 

“And if you even think of another man like that again, I will personally disown you; I’m sick of not having grandchildren. “His father said sharply. 

 

Arthur froze. Did he mean that? 

 

“Thank you for the advice Father. I’ll take it into consideration.” He said tonelessly, and put the phone down.

 

On entering the room, he made a point not to look at Merlin.

 

“I have to see a judge Tuesday to finalize the divorce. I take his ring, leave him the apartment, give him no money, and then I’m free again.” He said trying to be cheerful. 

 

Morgana saw through it.

 

“Don’t listen to Dad, Arthur. He can be such a dick. Whatever he said about young ladies, screw them. We’ve got plenty of young men on the list.”

 

“Yeah, I know a few Scottish blokes that’d definitely be willing to meet you.” Merlin piped up.

 

“Oh, Merlin, really?” Gwen grinned and poked him. 

 

“Yeah, really. Wish I could come support you in the courtroom, but we barely know each other and I gotta head back to work. Though your welcome to come hang out in Scotland, all of you.” Merlin smiled gloriously.

 

“Maybe I’ll come up to Scotland and we can get to know each other more.”

 

Merlin ducked his head, the tips of his ears reddening.

 

“I’d like that.” He said. “Just bring Gwen and Morgana with you so my roommate dotes on them, not you.” He smirked. 

 

“Oh my god, I totally want to go!” Morgana yelled, nearly knocking over her glass of wine standing up. 

 

“Whoa, whoa!” Merlin laughed as Gwen and Morgana threw themselves at him, covering him in hugs. 

 

“Merlin hasn’t ever let us see his paintings or even come to his flat—meet his glorious flatmate Gwaine who he had a one night stand with.” Morgana grinned, and poked him in the ribs while Merlin squirmed.

 

“Well, was he good?” Arthur said daringly, winking over the table.

 

And he felt accomplished that Sunday night that he had made Merlin laugh.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Divorce becomes final, and Arthur gets a gift from a certain painter which only strengthens his feelings.

4

 Monday evening found Arthur sitting quietly on the couch, Morgana trying to cheer him up with stupid jokes.

 

“Okay, okay, this is good. What do you call a fish with no eyes?” 

 

Arthur rolled his own eyes and looked at her over the rim.

 

“What….do you call a fish with no eyes?”

 

“A fsh! Get it?” She replied, and burst into full on loud, annoying laughter. Arthur smiled cheekily and wrapped a arm around her shoulders.

 

“Morg, you are full….of….shit!” He exclaimed, rubbing her head with his fist as she squirmed and tried to get away.

 

“Just wait till Gwen gets back from shopping with Merlin. She’ll get you back for that.” Morgana pouted as he released her. 

 

“What were they shopping for again?” Arthur asked, reclining against the couch back.

 

“Flowers for you.” Morgana sniped sarcastically, putting her feet in his lap. Gross. “No, oil paints and more canvas. Something about London manufacturing that makes Merlin think that paints are better here.” 

 

“Oh. Well, it was really very nice of him to invite us last night. Think he’ll hold up on it?” Arthur said, trying to shove her feet off his lap, but if you ever knew Morgana, you knew she was like a tiger and trying to make her move was well….impossible.

 

“I’m not sure. But he does know some really lovely people up in Scotland. What do you say you two go on a double blind date?”

 

Arthur promptly choked on his own saliva.

 

“I have never been on a blind date, and I would rather not, especially not with Merlin. He’s rather annoying, you know. Always talking about painting and Scotland and whenever he touches you you get paint on yourself and—“

 

“I get it. You kinda like him.” Morgana grinned, putting her hands behind her head and sighing dreamily. “But don’t you think its a little early to already like someone; your not even divorced yet.” 

 

“Yeah, but you and Gwen and Merlin are already trying to set me up with people, ever see that side?” He replied, a bit sharply.

 

“We’re only doing what we think is best for you.” She said, softer, brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes. “We just love you a lot.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He replied, finally shoving her feet off his lap. She sat up, shoving his arm in a huff.

 

“Wanna watch ‘Chopped’?” She asked, grabbing the remote.

 

“Yeah, if you promise to learn something from it. And if Gwen comes in, no kissing and distracting you from actually learning how to cook pasta.”

 

“Fine, fine.” She turned it on and they watched the famous ‘Baker Boys’ episode in peace until the front door was flung open and Gwen and Merlin burst in, chattering about paint. 

 

The next morning, when he woke up, he found Morgana and Gwen gone to see Merlin to the train station.

 

When he opened the bathroom door, hair ruffled and wet, something fell forward from where it had been propped up against the door. 

 

Frowning, he hoped it wasn’t some sort of prank from Morgana, and picked it up, squinting without his glasses. 

 

It was a very small canvas, about the size of his palm, and on it was a dragon; a golden dragon, roaring, with a red background. The dragon itself was infinitely detailed, with beautiful golden scales and whiskers and a long flowing tail. Despite these traits, it wasn’t a Oriental dragon but a European dragon. It was…in the very least, tasteful and lovely.

 

When he turned it over it said, in very fine small black cursive:

 

“Arthur: Good luck today. Come see me in Scotland. M.”

 

And for the first time that day he smiled. And when Arthur Pendragon was dressed in his best grey suit, looking dapper, he slipped it into his pocket. For good luck, of course.

 

Lancelot, when he saw him, looked like he was full of glowing light. He walked in with another young man, who was stout and black, and who stood in the back and didn’t say a word as they signed the final papers side by side. 

 

Arthur had never felt more alone. He signed it, biting his lip, first and then handed the pen to Lancelot.

 

Lance flinched, however, when it was his turn to sign the papers, and Arthur put a hand on his wrist. That just made him flinch more.

 

“Lance…this is what you want.” Arthur said, softly, trying not to let his emotions show. But it felt like a serpent was gripping his heart and ripping it into two. 

 

“I know. But is it what you want?” 

 

That hurt even more and Arthur blinked, startled by the tears that pricked his eyeballs.

 

“Lance, your calm and cheerful and wonderful and intelligent, and any guy, including that guy back there, would be lucky to have you. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Lancelot blushed under his praise.

 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ve never met a more gentlemanly nor loyal man, and I hope you continue to be a great man and a great doctor.” Lancelot said, and he finally signed it with his flourishing sweep.

 

After that, Arthur took his ring. He put it in his other pocket, with his own ring, and they parted ways. 

 

Leaving the courtroom and looking up at the cloudy, rainy sky, he thought to himself if that was what Scotland might feel like: brave, free, and promising.

 


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight to Arthurs work, and his thought process two weeks later. Whatcha think? Going too slow, want some action?

5

 

Dipping his hands under the rib, Dr. Pendragon carefully squeezed it back into place, looking up frequently to check the heart monitor, to see the IV full of blood still dripping so the man didn’t loose much blood.

 

It was 4 AM in the morning and he was fixing a rib that had been pushed out of place by a bullet. The man’s secret service men hadn’t been fast enough to push him out of the way, so the bullet had grazed the rib. 

 

He was trying his best to go slow and steady, despite the fact that he’d been at work since the day before: at 3 AM. That was more than 24 hours without sleep and he was light headed. His team of surgeons, even though some weren’t needed, surrounded him. The bullet itself was out, having affected no major organs, which Arthur was grateful for: less work. 

 

“Needle.” He said quietly under the florescent lights once he was satisfied that the man’s rib was in place. Taking the needle, he stuck it into the flesh, and upwards towards the other section, pulling firmly. Shaking his head, he knew that the patient would have a scar for the rest of his life. Couldn’t he have been more careful, more alert?

 

Finally, he was done, and the team dispersed to go home. 

 

Arthur pulled off his operating clothes, dumping them in the laundry basket where they would be cleaned for the next day. He fully intended to take a day off tomorrow, he thought to himself as he changed into his jeans and t-shirt. 

 

He grabbed his briefcase and coat in his office before he left, entering into the freezing London night with a shiver. For him, being a doctor took a huge toll on his mental health. The stress for taking care of another person was enormous, as was the job itself, never mind the good pay: there was also Uther to please, not to mention the press. He’d wasted years of his life in high school, and more years in medical school than he would have wanted. He’d only passed the exams because of his very high IQ. And now, it was all he knew how to do at 27.

 

27,with a good job that he liked sometimes, but already divorced and unhappy with his life and it was still all over the headlines: **Pendragon dumped by husband!!**

 

 Loneliness, he might have called it, if he had to give it a name. He was lonely when he worked, and when he came home; because now for some reason, Morgana and Gwen were always out. He wondered where they were, sometimes, and he wondered about Merlin.

 

It’d been two weeks since he saw the Scottish bloke last, and he still carried the mini-painting in his wallet. It fit perfectly where Lancelot’s picture had gone, and it filled him to the brim with happiness whenever he looked at it. So, he looked at it a lot. 

 

Lancelot. Of course he missed Lancelot. He’d stalked his Facebook page, earlier in the week, and he saw that he had updated his relationship status to In A Relationship. He didn’t say who,but Arthur could guess it was the man who had come with him into court.

 

The line of paleness where his ring had gone was starting to fade. He made a point to cover it with his pocket, or with his other hand when he went out. Arthur felt numb whenever he thought about their two years of marriage.  It was like a wire had been chopped off to his heart, a very important wire that served the purpose of beating.

 

Morgana and Gwen, when they ate together or watched TV, always told him about other fancy men who he might go out with. Rich men, attractive men, who were actors and scientists and famous, famous writers. But when he looked in the magazines at their smiling faces, he only desperately wished to leave what he had behind more. He didn’t want those snotty men, he didn’t want wealth. He wanted love, plain and simple. And with Lance gone, how could he ever convince himself that he had ever had love in the first place?

 

He dreamed, late at night, about running away. It was a child’s dream, really: to leave his briefcase in his office, and take a suitcase instead. Bring Gwen and Morgana with him on a lovely vacation, and then vanish , somewhere nice and clean, where no one would ever find him.

 

The Tube was quiet that night, and he glanced at the paper the homeless man slept on. He saw, of course, a section of his fathers face: Uther had given another talk that day on how well PMI was doing, and how he was giving everyone a raise. 

When Morgana had seen it on the news, she had laughed.

 

“Bullshit. He pays them too little, as he always does.”

 

When Arthur thought of Uther, it made his stomach clench. His father had called twice, to invite him to dinner or tea, and it was always a pretext for him to meet a woman. The first had been called Nimueh, and she had had dreadlocks and sparkling blue eyes and wore a dress the color of wine. But all Arthur had thought about was leaving. The second one he hadn’t even glanced at, she was so clumsy and rude. He'd tried to be kind to her: she'd probably been nervous, after all.

 

Opening the door, he went straight to his room and flopped onto the bed. Closing his eyes and rolling onto his back, he tried to breathe and sleep. He still hadn’t gotten used to having no warmth in his bed but him. 

 

As he drifted off to sleep, he added another detail to his plans: He’d bring Merlin with him, the only soul to stay with him in that secret place. They’d be together. 

 


	6. 6

6

 

“Arthur, turn the TV down, I can’t hear myself think!” Morgana called from the kitchen. Arthur frowned. It was about 7 PM in the evening, and he was intently watching the news in case there was more bullshit about his divorce he’d have to talk about. 

 

“Arthur, get in here and help me cook this salad!”

 

“Morg, salad isn’t meant to be cooked.” He said fondly. Living with Gwen and Morgana was adorable, excepting the loud sex that happened at the most irregular of times. Thankfully now that he was back at work he was hardly ever there when it happened. 

 

Upon entering the kitchen, he gazed fondly at his sister. Her face devoid of makeup, her hair thrown over her shoulder in a braid, the Lord of the Rings soundtrack playing on his computer—

 

“Hey,  did you hack my computer?” He frowned, heading towards it and tapping it thoughtfully.

 

“Its time to change your password from ‘lances-sword’, brother dear.” She said, throwing the salad around in the frying pan. 

 

He nodded, humming softly along with ‘Concerning Hobbits’. They’d always been a big fan of Lord of the Rings in his home, and he hadn’t seen them in ages. That, he thought to himself as he changed his password to **baubles** would be ever the appropriate date for him.

 

As he made to turn and help Morgana not burn down the house, he was distracted by a ping from his Facebook. Curiously, he turned, opened Safari, and looked at it: a friend request. He hoped it wasn’t from Lance’s new boyfriend or some silly teenage girl. He clicked on it.

 

**MERLIN EMERYS sent you a Friend Request.**

 

His throat suddenly became dry and he swallowed. This he hadn’t expected. Slowly, he clicked again on Merlin’s profile. His profile picture was him staring gloriously into the camera, a cheeky grin on his face. Behind him there was what looked like…well, Scotland. 

 

Scrolling through his posts and shares, comments and likes, he saw he also liked Lord of the Rings, as well as famous authors who dabbled in fantasy and surrealism. It was a good profile, though lacking: Arthur wanted to know more. 

 

Hastily, he clicked **‘Accept’** and shut that tab, focusing again on Morgana.

 

“Gwen coming home for dinner?”

 

“Probably not. That means we get to eat on the couch.”

 

Later, he opened Facebook again and was surprised to see Merlin had Facebook chatted him.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** How’s it going?

 

A small smile on Arthurs face appeared as he tried to think of a witty comeback, but he decided to be honest.

 

 _Pendragon:_ Its fine over here, rainy, dull: Morgana and Gwen are being driven crazy by my late/early hours.

 

Merlin replied almost instantly.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Ha, Gwen deserves it. You should try playing a prank on her, thats great. 

 

 _Pendragon:_ Never tried it. But for future reference, Morgana can always be scared by a gunshot.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Good idea. When will you come to Scotland, M8?

 

 _Pendragon:_ Been asking that myself, IDK about Morg/Gwen, but I have a packed schedule.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Are you happy with your job?

 

 _Pendragon:_ Excuse me?

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Are you pleased with it? 

 

Arthur didn’t know what to say about that. He wanted to say no, because that was the truth, but Arthur didn’t really know Merlin well.

 

 _Pendragon:_ Kinda. 

 

And then he signed off. He realized he’d been holding his breath, and that made it all the worse to sign back on and add:

 

 _Pendragon:_ We’ll plan for it, yeah? Video chat me later, sometime this week?

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Kinky.

 

Arthurs face flushed a hot red and he chuckled, hoarsely. 

 

 _Pendragon:_ Morg and Gwen’ll be here too, so  I doubt that.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** True. I’ve still got some blokes up here to meet you, the roomie included. So, maybe you’ll find someone up here.

 

 _Pendragon:_ Ah, wow, the one night stand: I’m flattered.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** God, you and Gwen: you’ll never let me down about that.

 

 _Pendragon_ : Nope, no way. See ya later, Merlin.

 

 **MERLIN EMERYS:** Bye Arthur.

 

It felt nice to finally have a real talk with the guy, and Arthur found himself smiling throughout watching the horrible Princess Diaries.


	7. 7

7

 

Of course, the time Merlin chose to video chat him (or them, really, seeing as it wasn’t a private video call) was when he was blasting All Star and the three of them were dancing around the apartment. They spend way too much time in the apartment; the summer air was seeping in, Morgana and Gwen were home full time now, just so they could throw water balloons at Arthur when he walked in the door. 

 

He was used to going to sleep pissed off and wet. 

 

So, they were dancing around, Arthur just off his shift, Gwen and Morgana continuously grabbing each other and dipping each other and giving each other sweet kisses so Arthur would have groan and throw pillows at them so they’d dance again; and then his Facebook began to chime.

 

“Guys, guys, its Merlin!” Gwen said, and shrieked as Morgana dropped her, running towards the laptop. Arthur groaned again.

 

“Anyone would think she was his best friend instead of me.” Guinevere muttered, taking Arthurs offered hand, and joining Morgana’s squeaks. 

 

“Oh my god, Merlin!” She full on yelled, causing Gwen to jump about three feet in the air.  Arthur grinned as he settled besides Morgana.

 

All three of them were on one side of the screen, the other was taken up by Merlin. He looked tired, that Arthur noticed, and he had green paint in his hair, yellow under his eye, and others dotting his pale…neck. Arthur swallowed and tried to look elsewhere. 

 

“Hey guys!” came Merlin’s tinny voice.

 

“Merlinnnnn!” Morgana said, drawing the N out fondly. Gwen rolled her eyes, Arthur gave a little wave.

 

“So, is this about Scotland?” Morgana asked, cupping her chin in her hand.

 

“How’d you guess?” Arthur couldn’t tell who Merlin was looking at, but his gaze seemed pretty fixed on them. Arthur swallowed.

 

“We guessed pretty damn fast, because why else would you call this loser?” Gwen butted in, shoving Morgana, whose body shoved Arthur, who rolled his eyes catching her.

 

“Well, PMI is giving me a break next week…would that work?” Merlin asked curiously, shifting. 

 

“Totally, for us! Arthur?” 

 

Arthur fumbled for words, trying to think. Merlin’s attention was solely on him.

 

“Scottish Blokes, Arthur…” Merlin teased, and Arthur glared at him.

 

“Oh sod off. Next week works for me too.” 

 

“Great!” Merlin exclaimed while Gwen and Morgana cheered excitedly.

 

“All right, its time we all got to bed, so….message me the plans?” Arthur asked.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Bye!” Gwen and Morgana said, waving as Arthur disconnected the call.

 

“Ooo, Arthur, he totally likes you.” Morgana said, grabbing him by one elbow.

 

“Its true!” Gwen insisted, grabbing his other elbow.

 

“Ladies, ladies, please, he does **not** and I have a surgery in two hours so I need sleep.” He said, trying to detangle himself.

 

“Hell no, your staying here with us!” Gwen said, pulling him backwards on to the couch with them. “We’re going to stay up for days watching Disney.”

 

“Why did Morgana ever marry you?” He sighed, watching as the Disney symbol came onto the screen.

 

“Because I was her best bet in a world of men?” Gwen retaliated, leaning over him to kiss Morgana. Arthur shoved her gently away, glaring.

 

“Lesbians.” He said fondly, putting a arm around each of them.

 

Morning found Tarzan playing and they all passed out, leaning on one another for support.

 

If there had only been one more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Comment!


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plottwist.

Authors note: This is complete shit, only written for the PLOT TWIST AT THE END!!

8

The train tickets were clutched in his hand. Three, for him and Gwen, and Morgana. While the week had gone by in a flurry, he wondered…what would it be like if he was alone with Merlin?

Arthur pondered it. His accent, that Scottish accent, was music unto his ears, caressing them in sweet monotones and syllables. His ears…Arthur would have liked to play with his ears. They were delicate and floppy and he just wanted to poke them. Also, his hands—free of paint, perhaps, would be absoulutly soft and silky… not to mention those lips, devoid of color. Would they bloom and show a color other than white tinted with pink?

They’d only messaged so far, but Merlin kept sending him…the most ridiculous selfies. One video, obviously from snapchat, where he’d been singing along to John Farmer. Very adorable. 

He also kept getting texts about Gwaine. Gwaine, with long hair and brown eyes, looked similarly striking to Lancelot, and yet not. He had a beard, for one thing, and he was more fun loving, and from what Arthur could tell, loved drink. So, secretly, he figured that that wasn’t going to work out. Of course, he didn’t mention THAT to Merlin, just sent back pictures of himself with silly faces. He hoped Merlin laughed.

So, there they were, running towards the station, Morgana and Gwen having packed much more than was necessary. 

“Jesus fuck, we’ll miss the bloody train.” Morgana screeched, gaining looks from passersbys. She should have gained looks, anyway, in her long blue dress with its matching heels. Arthur was constantly at her elbow so she didn’t fall.

“Stop panicking, love.” Gwen replied. Such a gentle sweet angel. Arthur loved her. Today he was feeling especially kind today, no sass, no meanness, no boldness. Just…Arthur.

They reached the train, barely in time. The seats were green, though incredibly small, the plastic trays covered with pieces of food—grotesque.

“Oh, most undignified.” said a little old lady as she hobbled by, seeing Morgana perched on Gwen’s lap. Arthur started forwards, intending to stop them, when Morgana, a brazen look in her eyes, started full on making out with her.

“Bollocks.”

It as going to be a very, very long trip indeed. 

The train rattled up, up, out of London, out of England. It took about three hours: three hours ofMorgana getting very drunk, and snogging Gwen, and telling extremely stupid jokes. Gwen put up with it, even delighted in it, but Arthur became mischievously rude, going so far as to put ice down the back of her dress.

That, as it turned out, was a terrible idea, because she started to…well, strip.

“No, no no!” came a chorus from the other two, and she stopped…barely. 

“Oh my god, we’re going to die. Its almost as bad as that time we went on the roller coaster.” Arthur bemoaned, facepalming.

“Almost.” Gwen reminded him. 

Morgana had sobered up, they all had, when they got off. 

And, after collecting their baggage, Arthur turned, and saw them throwing themselves on a very familiar figure. He felt his heart lift, and he began to lift a hand in greeting, when Merlin turned and gave a very sloppy kiss on the cheek to…none other than the roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was watching Merlin video diaries when doing this, so. Sorry its such shit. Tried to slip in weird little reminders of the filming haha. (roller coaster haha: THE SCREAMALOT!! :) ) Comment, please.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, who wants a second ch update in the same day? I sure as hell do. <3

 

9

Arthur walked towards them, steadfastly. As the son of Uther Pendragon, he had been trained from a young age not to show emotion.

 

But his voice cracked when he said, very quietly:

 

“Hey, mate, how’s it going?”

 

Merlin broke into a glorious smile, one such as Arthur had never seen before. It gave him a knot in his stomach.

 

“Arthur!” He practically cheered, grabbing one of the bags from him and clapping him on the shoulder with the other. “So good to see you.”

 

Arthur noticed for once how he was devoid of any paint, anywhere…that he could see. He flushed at the thought of Merlin’s paint stained chest, stomach…naval…

 

“Yea, you too.” He said, trying for a genuine smile.

 

“Uh, right, meet my roommate, Gwaine? The one I’ve been constantly talking about?”

 

“Yes, right. Pleasure.” Arthur smiled thinly, noticing how Gwaine’s eyes left Merlin’s face regretfully.

 

“Hey, heard a lot about you, Doc’.” Gwaine said cheerfully, his eyes meeting Arthurs with a pleasant smile as he grasped his hand firmly. 

 

“Oh really?” Arthur asked, curiously, and yet not. 

 

“Mhmm.” Gwaine said, his hand sliding from Arthurs, and he leaned back, turning to Gwen and slinging a arm around her thin shoulders. Morgana slipped under his other arm and they began to walk towards the exit. Leaving, of course, Merlin and Arthur with the luggage.

 

“Shall we?” Merlin said, grabbing another suitcase and Arthur followed suite. He found himself struggling with himself as they walked.

 

Did Merlin like Gwaine in that manner? Had he and Gwaine been playing a practical joke on him, with the snapchats, and leading him on? Were there actually blokes for Arthur to…well, get over Lancelot with? He was NOT going to get over Merlin, he was never in for Merlin…

 

At least, he didn’t think so. He did think Morgana would have some firm words to say about that. 

 

“Here we are.” Merlin said, and instantly tried to lift Gwen and Morgana’s suitcase into the back…by himself.

 

“Here, let me help you with that—“ Arthur tried, but just as he reached for the handle, Merlin let go. Theirs hands met.

 

His skin was softer than silken winds, lighter than a hollow bone needle. Was it his imagination or did Merlin’s eyes widen slightly as their hands met?

 

“Oh, bollocks!” Arthur yelled, wincing as he removed his crushed foot from beneath the horrendous suitcase. “Bloody hell.” he added, for good measure.

 

“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry, Arthur, I had no idea—“ Merlin did look sorry, but now Arthur was pissed off. 

 

“Its fine, its fine.” he muttered, hauling the suitcase up himself and shutting the trunk.

 

Luckily, the ride through Edinburgh was lovely to look upon, and Morgana and Gwen were behaving themselves—slightly, only teasing Gwaine about how long his hair was and how weird he looked when driving. Merlin laughed too much, and it was as if the whole car had forgotten Arthur.

 

The flat was small, but cozy; painted in various shades of gold and green, which in contrast was startling to the eyes (‘We couldn’t decided on a color!’ Merlin and Gwaine said together, and looked at each other fondly, which had Arthur clenching his fist in frustration and almost knocking over a vase). Morgana and Gwen were in a seperate room (‘No loud sex, please,’ Merlin said, cheerfully, ‘or we’ll all have to join in!’ Arthur had turned red at that) and Gwaine and Merlin, of course had their own room.

 

“Now, Arthur, since your in Merlin’s precious painting room…he’s trusting you not to look under the sheets for his grand finale when he gets a proper gallery to hang them in.” Gwaine joked, opening the door to a pale green room with huge amounts of paint, brushes, and one lone mattress; Merlin had obviously tried to make it nice, with a lovely blue bedspread  and a cute little cat pillow.

 

“Ah, thanks Merlin.” Arthur said, and Merlin smiled again. Then Arthur recalled he was mad and turned away again. 

 

“We’ll let you get situated.” Gwaine said, putting his arm around Merlin’s waist and drawing him out the door to where Morgana and Gwen already had the rugby match on telly. 

 

Arthur sighed, leaning against the door. This was going to be a very long week if Merlin indeed was with Gwaine. He’d just have to find out…starting tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments??? Jealous! Arthur indeed!!


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another very small plot twist. And of course, Jealous! Merlin

10

The morning light somehow looked different from the grey in London. The grey sky in Scotland seemed somehow different. Perhaps it was the way the telly was still on?

 

Arthur sat up, his mouth tasting foul. Looking over, he saw Morgana, Gwen and Merlin curled up in a pile, resting heads and arms and legs on the others various body parts. 

 

Morgana’s hair was disheveled, and little parts of it were stuck in the peanut butter jar. Gwen had her arms firmly wrapped around Merlin with her feet on Morgana’s stomach, and Merlin…had the cutest smile on his face. 

 

“Morning.” came a quiet whisper from the side as a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of his face. 

 

“Oh. Morning.” Arthur gratefully accepted the cup, sipping. Gwaine looked no worse for wear, the light hitting his eyes and making them sparkle.  

 

“You drank a lot last night, how are you still up?” 

 

“Advil.” Gwaine replied matter-of-factly, holding the bottle up and shaking it.

 

“Oh.” Arthur replied, taking another gulp of  coffee. He wanted, desperately to ask, if he and Merlin were shagging each other. But it seemed to early. 

 

He never got the chance to ask, because Gwaine’s hand slipped into his, and he watched, somewhat transfixed as Gwaine’s hand reeled him in, pressing a kiss to his throat.

 

“Um.” Arthur said. 

 

“Too fast? Well, thats okay. We’ll go to the club tonight and you can see just…how….good…I…am.” Gwaine said, pressing kisses in between words. His mouth was chapped, it felt good. 

 

“Gwaine…?” Arthur tried. “I hardly know you…should you be, you know…trying to get me into bed?”

 

“Mm.” Gwaine continued to press kisses, until Arthur laid a hand on his knee.

 

“Gwaine. Give me some time. I only left my husband a while ago,” he said quietly.

 

“Oh-h-h-h.  I see. Its not me you want. Its Merlin.” Gwaine chuckled, squeezing his hand comfortingly. 

 

“What? No!” Arthur blanched, shaking his head. “I just got divorced!”

 

“No. Nope. You know, the only way to really get Merlin is to get him…jealous.” 

 

“I didn’t say I wanted the…the…the…clodpole!” Arthur said, his eyes steeling.

 

“Clodpole, eh? You so like him. So what do you say to this…”

 

He was so screwed, he thought. Gwaine’s plan was horrendous, very risky, could be taken very wrong by his sister and her lover.

 

Yet, for some reason, he knew Gwaine was right. He really did like him. And he wanted him to like him back.

 

Taking one last look at the portrait in his wallet, the dragon seemed to wink at him. 

 

Arthur Pendragon…was ready, once again, to court. 

 

Exiting the bathroom, he saw the four crowded around the table. Gwaine waved at him.

 

“Hey baby.”

 

“Hey.” he replied, walking over and sliding a arm around him.

 

“Oi, what happened between you two last night?” Morgana said loudly…too loudly, for she clutched her head and groaned.

 

“Oh nothing. Just a little…” Gwaine made a crude gesture. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin sit up taller.

 

“Told you it was good.” he chirped, from the end.

 

“Not just good, great.” Arthur winked at him, then hid a smile in the crook of Gwaine’s pine smelling neck. 

 

“The bird takes the bait from the hook.” Gwaine said into his ear, as he steered him towards the bedroom. “Maybe we’ll go for round three…”

 

“Three?!” Gwen gasped. “Arthur, really!” But Arthur could see she was gripping Morgana’s hand, who was hiding her own grin behind the coffee mug.

 

Granted, when they did fuck, it was good. They fucked for the sake of the story, because Merlin was on the other side of the wall painting, but Gwaine was a good hit, and Arthur told him so, lazily kissing him.It had been so long since he had fucked, he gave it all he had.

 

“Ah, but you wish I was Merlin.” Gwaine said. “No matter. I’ve got a bloke on the other side of town I’ll ring up tonight, if you want to be alone with him.”

 

“Literally we just had sex, Gwaine, how large is your libido?” Arthur said. 

 

“Very large.” Gwaine said, reaching for him again; Arthur rolled away from him, laughing. 

 

“Nice try, but you know this was a one night stand.”

 

“Yeah, but if Merlin rejects you…?” Gwaine said.

 

“You yourself said it was a good idea, he gets jealous a lot.”

 

Later, coming out of the shower, he met Merlin in the hallway. He looked angry, but when he saw Arthur his face brightened…weakly.

 

“Hey hey, heard the shagging, nice hit, right?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” Arthur replied.

 

But he saw Merlins face darken as he shut the door and he couldn’t help but laugh, throwing the towel off, and dancing around naked.

 

He was in love with that pale, pasty Scottish boy with the paint in his hair and the smile on his face and the large ears. And he wanted to tell him so.

Authors note: WHATCHA THINK? KEEP GOING, STOP, ARE YOU GUYS LIKING IT? <333


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler, but a teaser. Should I continue or not? *worries*

11

 

“Now, see, I’m not so sure I want to go, Morg.”

 

“But its a club. There’ll be strippers and drink, and hell, even saintly Merlin’s going.”

Merlin scowled and turned away. He looked incredible in the ripped red pants and blue t-shirt he was wearing, and Arthur wanted to tell him so.

 

‘C’mon lover boy. You gotta come.” Gwaine smirked, leaning over him.

 

“Fine, fine fine. But Morgana…Morgana!” She was halfway out the door already, and what a sight he must have looked, running after yelling ‘Don’t touch the strippers!’

 

The club was noisy, colorful, and bold. The floor was waxed to perfection, and people were throbbing all over the place, grinding and drinking and laughing rambunctiously.

 

He watched Merlin vanish into the crowd, pulled by Morgana and Gwen. Gwaine materialized at his shoulder, adjusting his hair, smooth his jeans, and yes, grabbing his crotch.

 

“Gwaine!”

 

“Go get him, tiger. The world is your oyster.” He said, and Arthur nodded.

 

He surged through the sea of bodies, looking for a glimpse of pale flesh, paint encrusted nails, wild messy hair. And when he saw, he took a chance, grabbing the hand and pulling him outside the nearest exit, an alley, with trashcans and cats and all. He knew he looked a mess, blonde hair ruffled, shirt soaked with sweat from looking for so long, but he didn’t care.

 

“Oi! What do you think your doing, mate?” Merlin blurted, stopping suddenly when he saw who it was.

 

“Oh. Arthur. Did you want to ask me where Gwaine was? Here, let me get him on speed dial…” Merlin began to pull out his phone.

 

“No, oh no, no, no. Please.” Arthur said, laying a hand on his, stopping him. Merlin stopped, and they both stilled. 

 

“Arthur…” Merlin said, his voice lower and softer, with the hints of a thunderstorm in it, his eyes looking Arthurs wistfully.

 

Slowly, Merlin pulled away from his hand, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Merlin. When I fucked Gwaine today, I…it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was to…”

 

“To make me jealous?” Merlin asked, quietly. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“That was low.” Merlin said,looking anywhere but at Arthur, his ears red.

 

“Would you forgive me, and let me have the most of the rest of these remaining five days here?”

 

Merlin laughed shortly.

 

“And what would you have here that you don’t have in London?”

 

Arthur leaned forward, cautious as a kitten walking away from its mother, until their lips near brushed. He could see a tint more color in them, and he closed his eyes, a smiling blooming over his face.

 

“You, Merlin Emerys, you stupid Scottish painter. I would have you, and you alone.”

 

And with that, his fate was sealed. 

 

Now, to hear the answer.


	12. A interlude

Merlin squirmed under the scrutiny of Arthurs gaze. And finally, blushing as only a painter could, the color of the sun in his cheeks, he spoke.

 

"I'm sorry. I..." And with that he fled. 

 

////////....////./////.//.//.:///////

 

Arthur was to say the least inconsolable. His head pounded even as he rode the train back to London, the very next day. It felt like a weight had been dropped over his recovery from Gwaine and now what? 

 

His phone he kept off as he worked day in and day out. Blood slicked his hair, for he carelessly ran gloved hands over his locks during surgery and misued instruments so that he finally had to take some time off. 

 

Morgana and Gwen were sympathetic but he couldn't handle them. And he decided to strike out on his own, fend for himself. 

 

Until the day Merlin texted him.


	13. Chapter Whatever: Makeover and Oranges and Yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally. It's a date, yeah? Florida here they come!

_'Maybe I made a mistake.' 9:00 AM_

 

 

Arthur sucked in a breath, checking that it was indeed from who he thought it was. The blue eyed painter that painted with such vivacious ferocity, and had given Arthur a painting of a dragon, and whom he had kissed...his cheeks suffused with a color becoming of him: red, like fire.

He had not seen Lancelot, or the man he was with for a long time; he had not seen Morgana nor Gwen for about a week. He had been alone, slicking his fingers with brains, and working till he was chilled and felt like his eye sockets were going to pop. Uther had been trying to contact him, but he had tried to ignore him as best he could, despite Uther warning him about his behavior and how he needed to remarry so the firm became more than popular: to quote, it would become 'a supernova.'

And now, Merlin texts him? Just as he was feeling more like he was inching onto stable ground?

Fuck it all. He made a mistake? Arthur was the one who pined after him, yearning for him, always looking at him. It was his fault, so he said so, his fingers hovering over the iphone screen uncertainly. 

_'It was my fault. I'm sorry.'  9:10 AM_

Then, scared as he was, he turned his phone off; he didn't want to hear anything from anyone for a while. How could he? He felt like a artery, pulsing and pulsing; he hadn't felt so much emotion in a while, and it was scaring him.

Should he FaceBook Morgana? Or Gwen? Or Lance? Anyone? Or should he curl up into a ball, in his scrubs and all, or shower, or eat something better than jam and bread?

When he turned his phone on a week later, there were five messages. 

Morgana...  _Answer Merlin, he's freaking out.  10: 00 AM Wednesday_

_Just give him another chance! 1 AM Thursday_

_Arthur Pendragon I will chop your balls off if you aren't man enough to answer him! Yesterday, 2:00_   
  


He pacified her, saying:  _Morgana, I intend to answer._

And then he read Merlin's message.

_No, it isn't. It's my fault for running away. And I shouldn't have. So, please go out with me and give me another chance._

_Morgana suggests we all go somewhere warm, such as Florida. She thinks it will be a good idea for us to get used to each other...before we date, or as we date, or whatever. I'd like to date you, M8, I really would. So. Please. Please._

So Merlin was the begging type, one to play, pull back and forth...or had he liked Arthur that whole time? 

Then Arthurs mind was wandering to Merlin's job...had he become successful in the time they hadn't been together? Did he like cocoa? What did he even like, besides painting? He wanted to know fucking everything.

So, he lifted his phone in his trembling hands, and typed.

_My answer is yes. Let's go on vaction and see where it goes. But with chaperones ;)_

Morgana showed up at his door the next day with tools for his makeover which he stubbornly refused, spilling all her makeup, and when she frowned, he hugged her, burying his face in her sweet smelling hair, until Gwen showed up with the scanty clothing.

Then he began to run around the room, screaming in a high pitched voice, mocking them as they fell over laughing in a heap.

Would this work? He hoped so.

 


End file.
